


Undercover(s)

by snarled_musings



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarled_musings/pseuds/snarled_musings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A number's come up and Reese has to go undercover as Noah to dig for information. Finch doesn't like to make it easy on him; in fact he finds a great deal of enjoyment causing Reese additional discomfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your number's up

**Author's Note:**

> This idea's been rattling around in my brain for a while now, and thanks to some of the comments I've received it's kind of transmuted into a weird standalone sequel.

Finch sat down opposite Reese, gratefully accepting the cup of tea that got pushed towards him. They really needed to find a new cafe, he thought as the waitress gave him a smile of recognition. They'd frequented this place too often lately. Reese gave him a look.

 

”Relax, Finch. No one will be able to trace us through our coffee-drinking habits. Or tea-drinking, in your case.” It was a bit annoying that his friend had gotten to know him so well. It made his 'enigmatic-eccentric'-role so much harder to keep up. ”What's up?”

 

”What do you think? We've got a new number, of course.” He slid a file over to Reese, who flipped it open and studied their new mark.

 

”He looks like Joe Regular.”

 

”Don't they all?” Finch sighed slightly. ”In fact he is a Joe, full name Joseph Blake. Thirty-three years old, single, owns his own modest apartment. Pays his mortgage on said apartment, no other outstanding debts. He teaches art at St. Mary's high school, where he also leads evening classes for anyone who's willing to pay the tuition fee. Both parents alive and well, a seemingly normal social life and no known enemies.”

 

Reese sighed and put the file away. ”In other words the machine's just as mysterious as always. We've got nothing to start with. We'll just have to take the long way around.” Finch gave a minute smile.

 

”Isn't that the story of our life, Mr. Reese?”

 

Reese nodded glumly. ”Yes it is. Does this mean I have to head over to the high school?”

 

”That seems like an appropriate place to start, yes. Don't scare any of the children.” Reese sighed again.

 

” _They_ scare _me_ , Finch. They're not children, they're adults trapped in kids' bodies. They know more about sex and booze than I do.”

 

Finch's smile widened. ”The booze I doubt, but the sex I can believe.” Reese tried to look hurt; it was hard to do when a grin threatened to break free any minute. Finch didn't even try to hide his glee at getting a jab in. He took a sip of his tea and sat back. Reese raised a brow at him.

 

”Shouldn't we get going?”

 

”There's no rush; Mr. Blake's still in class. And your class doesn't start until two o'clock.” Reese choked on his coffee, sputtering and coughing.

 

” _My class?_ ” Finch knew he looked entirely unapologetic. Just occasionally it was too hard to resist temptation and bait Reese. He was still waiting to see what he'd balk at. The moment he did Finch would come up with an alternative solution. He'd actually devised three different strategies to get close to Joe Blake, but none of the other had the same potential for entertainment. ”I'm teaching _a class_!?” His voice actually grew louder, which Finch knew happened rarely.

 

”Don't worry. I just took the liberty of hiring you as a temp for Phys Ed class. You'll have plenty of time to head back and change. I have everything set for you at the library.” Reese his his face in his hands and groaned.

 

 

* * *

 

Reese stared in horror at the clothes laid out before him. He could _feel_ Finch smiling behind his back.

 

”Do I have to wear this? The jeans and the shirt, no problem. I can do casual. But a track suit!?” his voice rose an octave, close to cracking. Finch gave a small snort.

 

”I've seen you in yoga pants before. Really, it's not that bad.”

 

”They were yoga pants, because I'd been working out! But I don't want to be seen in public wearing this!” He glared at the offending clothes, wondering if he could make them disappear. Finch shook his head, no longer able to hide his smile.

 

”You cannot teach Phys Ed in a suit, Mr. Reese. You only have one class today. Hopefully we'll be able to resolve this matter quickly and you won't even have to go back tomorrow.” Reese found himself fervently praying it would work out that way as he reluctantly began stripping out of his suit. Finch cleared his throat pointedly. ”We do have a second room where you can change in private.” Reese, down to his boxers and undershirt, gave a shrug.

 

”It's not like you haven't seen me wearing less than this. Usually I'm covered in blood, but still.” He grabbed the jeans and pulled them on. As always they fit perfectly, if a little more snugly than the style he usually wore. He looked down on himself as he shrugged into the shirt and buttoned it about halfway. ”Do I look like a teacher?”

 

The annoying smirk was back on Finch's face. ”You certainly will have no trouble holding the female students' attention. Some of the male ones' too, I'm sure.” Reese leveled a glare at him as he fussed a bit with his clothes. He felt strangely under-dressed without his suit. Or maybe he was getting used to the sense of authority it usually brought him. He really could use that sense now; he wasn't equipped to deal with this.

 

”Yeah, because I really look forward to spending a day being ogled by kids I'm technically old enough to be father of. Nothing could be more fun.” Grabbing his duffel he tossed down the sweat, together with a gym towel, running shoes, a bowie knife, a folding knife and his Glock. Finch raised an eyebrow; he looked at him defensively. ”What? Rule number one is never to enter enemy encampments unarmed.”

 

”They're high school students, Mr. Reese.”

 

”Yeah well, just because you can run circles around them with your logic and wits doesn't mean I have to resort to that tactic. I'm more of a hands-on guy.” He accepted the folder Finch handed him.

 

”Your credentials.”

 

Reese looked it over and his eyes widened in surprise. ”Noah Wilson? You're using one of the aliases I've created?” That was unprecedented; Finch usually preferred his own creations. The smaller man gave a shrug.

 

”He seemed like a likeable fellow, your Mr. Wilson, and you seemed comfortable with him. You've created him to be a reasonably average person, so he seemed like a good choice.” Honestly Reese was grateful to have Noah as his cover. He'd played that part often enough, and normal enough, that he'd feel comfortable in his own skin. He didn't doubt that he'd need it; he wasn't joking when he said schools made him uncomfortable. With a sigh he hefted his bag and slung it over his shoulder, grabbing his helmet on the way out.

 

”Are you sure it's a good idea to take the motorcycle?”

 

”This whole op's insane, I might as well get some fun out of it,” Reese tossed over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs. He spent the time on his bike getting into Noah's head space, pulling on the role like one of his suits. He wished he could have just slipped into the teachers' lounge, pretending to be a lost parent, and just blue-jack Blake's phone. It would have been a lot easier. He could almost hear Finch's voice in his head, telling him it wouldn't let them get to know the number. He mused on Joseph Blake, wondering if he was mark or perp. He'd made assumptions so many times, proving the old adage about assuming to be true. As he parked his bike a block from the high school his gut gave a nervous roll. He wasn't kidding when he said kids scared him. His interaction with them up to date had been okay, but they left him out of his depth. He squared his shoulders and grabbed his duffel, making sure his bike was as safe as it could be. If any punk stole it he'd be able to use the tracker and hunt him down anyway.

 

* * *

 

The high school was well maintained, if still a bit run down. He automatically memorized all the escape routes as he made his way to the principal's office. Trudging through the halls made him feel uncomfortably similar to a rat in a maze, and he was aware of curious stares following his every move. He was used to the anonymity of the city and the level of scrutiny made him tense, on edge. Trying to dispel some of the discomfort with a deep breath, he gave a sharp rap on the door, which opened shortly. The woman in front of him might be attractive if she'd been less severe. The suit she wore was an unflattering cut and Reese thought that Finch's input might work wonders for her.

 

”How can I help you?” Her voice had a nasal twang that grated in his ears and her stare was a little bit too invasive. He tried not to clench his jaw as he extended his hand, forcing a smile onto his lips.

 

”I'm Noah Wilson, the Phys Ed temp. I'm told you were expecting me?” Her face relaxed and warmed slightly and Reese relaxed minutely.

 

”I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson. Things have been a bit chaotic here recently. I'm Susan Anderson. Have a seat while I look over your references.” He obediently sat down, thinking this was the first time he'd ever been to the principal's in his life. Anderson looked his papers over, making noncommittal noises under her breath. Finally she looked up at him. ”Everything seems to be in order. Let me show you to the teachers' lounge.” He stood up and followed her into the maze again.

 

”Mr. Reese, are you in position?” Hearing Finch's voice was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. It brought him back to his world and helped him focus on the task at hand.

 

”On my way to meet the other teachers,” he murmured softly. ”I'm escorted by the principal. Keep your fingers crossed that Blake's there, so we can get a speedy wrap on this. Tell me you've gotten something on our number.”

 

”I'm sorry, Mr. Reese. So far I'm drawing a blank. But I'll keep digging. Talk to the other teachers, find out if there are any disgruntled parents or colleagues.”

 

”Will do, Finch. Talk to you later.” He terminated the call just as Anderson opened the lounge door. Only a handful of people were inside and Reese uncoiled a little bit more. He immediately saw Blake and sent a small prayer of thanks to higher powers.

 

”Ladies and gentlemen, this is Noah Wilson. He'll be subbing for Carl. Joseph, would you mind showing Mr. Wilson his changing room and the gym hall?” Blake got to his feet, hand extended. Reese accepted the proffered hand and shook it firmly. He noted that the photograph Finch had found didn't do the guy justice. He looked younger than his thirty-three years, slim and fit. His hair was a nondescript brown, and his brown eyes sparkled with curiosity.

 

”Hey, call me Joe.”

 

”Noah.” He followed the other man. ”So, have you been teaching here for long?” Blake glanced over his shoulder, making sure Reese was keeping up with him.

 

”About five years now. It's a good place, less disruptive than a lot of other schools in the city. Sure, some of the kids are thugs and dealers, but not everyone's a bad apple. And Susan's good at curbing the troublemakers.” Reese nodded, noting the respect in the other man's voice. Discreetly he pulled his phone out, forcing it to pair with Blake's. Step one was accomplished, at least.

 

”What's your subject?”

 

”Art.” He gave a self-deprecating grin. ”I'm the hippie of the place.” Reese answered his smile.

 

”Does that make me the jock?” Blake gave a laugh.

 

”It might, depending on your favorite sports. You don't strike me as the football-type.”

 

Reese smiled again, a bit surprised to find himself unwinding. The guy had social skills, no doubt about it. ”I prefer either basketball or baseball.”

 

”Then you're no real jock,” Blake said with a grin. ”Here's your office-slash-locker room. You might want to change right away; I'll show you the gym hall afterward.” To Reese's surprise he stayed, casually leaning against the door frame. Reese gave a mental shrug and began changing. As he tugged his undershirt off Blake gave a whistle. ”Whoa man, those are some serious scars. You've been in the service?”

 

”I've updated your records, Mr. Reese,” came Finch's voice over the earwig. ”You were infantry, served in Iraq and Afghanistan. I hadn't expected you to have company when changing.” His voice was teasing and Reese had to bite his lip to keep from making a rude noise.

 

”Yeah, two tours. It gave me enough action to last me a lifetime; I figured it was time to do something safer.” Blake snorted, his eyes roaming over Reese's chest. The guy wasn't exactly discreet in checking him out, but he might be able to work with that.

 

”So you chose to work as a temp teaching high school kids? Yeah, because that's really safe,” Blake drawled. Reese actually laughed. He was warming to the guy. ”Come on, your class starts in five.” He followed Blake. Finch's voice sounded in his ear:

 

”He seems to have taken a shine to you, Mr. Reese. Well done.” Reese didn't deign to answer that. Instead he stopped in front of the door Blake indicated. The younger man slapped his shoulder.

 

”Once more into the breach, huh? Good luck, my friend.” Reese cautiously opened the door and stepped into the hall. The first thing he heard was ”Oh. My. God!” squealed by feminine voices in a pitch that might shatter glass, or make his ears bleed. He resisted the impulse to hide his face in his hands. Instead he boldly stepped into the lion's den.

 

 


	2. Into the breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reese gets through his first class, Finch does some spy work on his own and Noah gets to know Joe better. Yeah, they live in a strange world.

 Reese shut the door to his office, leaning his back against it and closing his eyes. “Finch, _please_ tell me you've found something. Don't make me return to this hellish existence again tomorrow.”

 

Finch's voice was choked as he replied:

 

“Now, it wasn't that bad, Mr. Reese.”

 

“You've had me under surveillance; you saw everything?” His voice was a threatening growl even as his face grew heated. Finch finally cracked, laughter ringing in Reese's ears.

 

“I'm sorry, but the look on your face when that girl tried to convince you to do CPR on her was absolutely priceless!” Reese's head made a dull thunk as it fell against the door. That had actually been one of the _better_ moments. It was worse when Shauna had tried to feel him up, her make up having her look like a small, surprised raccoon. Or when Dwayne had threatened to kick his ass and actually had tried to follow up on the threat. It had taken all of Reese's considerable will power to not tie the punk up and hoist him into the ceiling, just for the principle of things. Or when a group of girls had started discussing who was hotter, he or random Hollywood actors, only to proceed to discuss how they'd seduce him. _In detail_. He was willing to do anything to make that graphic imagery disappear from his now scarred brain.

 

“Tell me you have some good news, please.”

 

“I still have found nothing really tangible. Mr. Blake's been living here since his family moved here when he was sixteen. I thought I'd head over and talk to them, try to find out if he's in any sort of trouble.”

 

“That's good, Finch. I'll try to establish a connection to him. He seems to be liked well enough by his peers. I don't know about the students. He said there were some kids dealing at the school. Maybe he's tried to talk them straight or something and they're after him.”

 

“He certainly hasn't pressed any charges. He does, however, have a record. Some small things he did as a minor; public disorder, drunk and disorderly.”

 

“Maybe that's why they moved, to get him away from the wrong crowd.” Reese grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He gave a long stretch and groaned as his back gave a crack.

 

“However interesting his past sins may be they are of little concern to us. We should focus on the present. See if you can find your new friend, maybe spend the evening with him.”

 

Reese groaned again and scrubbed at his face. “Really, I had looked forward to some regular recon, beating the streets, doing surveillance.”

 

“You're not even sure what to look for at this point, Mr. Reese. Spend time with Mr. Blake, that's the best surveillance you can get anyway. You might even get a pleasant time.”

 

“What is it with you and this new-found obsession with getting me a social life? I don't want it.” A rap on the door made him grab his shirt again, hastily pulling it on. He opened it, a bit surprised to find Joe outside.

 

“Hey. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He looked Reese over frankly and Reese actually felt his face heat up. It had been a long time since someone had tried to play that game with him.

 

“Go play with your new friend, Mr. Reese. Maybe something'll come up.” Finch's voice was amused, and laden with innuendo. The blush broke over his face; he made a soft growl of warning. Finch just laughed and hung up.

 

“I'm okay. No, I'm not. That was horrible!” He scrunched his face up and ran a hand through his hair. The younger man laughed.

 

“Yeah, they can be a handful. Which were worse; guys or girls?” Reese shuddered.

 

“The girls. Hands down, no hesitation.” Joe nodded in agreement. “Are there any good coffee places around here? I need to flee, and I'm dying from lack of caffeine.”

 

“There's a great place just a few blocks away from here. Would you mind if I joined you?” Reese looked down on himself.

 

“No, it would be nice. I just need to shower and change.” This time he wasn't surprised when Joe stayed in the room. Instead he pulled his shirt off a little bit slower than usual, making sure to stretch afterward. He noticed that when he met Joe's look with one of his own the younger man blushed slightly. Maybe he wasn't quite as much the aggressor as he tried to give a shine of. When he stepped out of his track pants Joe's eyes grew slightly wider and the blush deepened. Then he noticed the bullet scar on Reese's thigh and winced. He didn't say anything; neither did Reese. He just went into the adjoining shower room, grabbing his bag on the way. He'd showed more than enough skin for one day. It made him feel... conflicted. Finch was right, it had been a long time since he'd had a male companion. Not that he intended to give in to the impulse, that would be admitting Finch was right. Besides, Joe was their number. He couldn't get involved with a number. He bowed his head under the hot spray, relaxing slightly. He really wanted to stay there for another hour, but it wouldn't do to keep Joe waiting. He dried off and pulled on his jeans and a black shirt. Running fingers through his hair and pulling on his army jacket had him good to go.

 

“Is it okay if we drive there separately? I have this thing I have to go to in a couple of hours, so I'd like to head there straight after.” Reese perked up a little at that. Hopefully Joe would meet someone or do something he could make use of.

 

“Sure, no problems. Tell me where the place is; I'll meet you there.” He recognized the address well enough and made his way to his bike. “Finch, are you there?”

 

“As always, Mr. Reese. So you got a play date? I'm glad for you.”

 

“What you're doing right now? It's just creepy, stop it,” Reese ordered firmly. He pulled his helmet on and revved the engine of the bike. “I need you to do me a favor. Joe's heading off to a meeting; I need you to bring the car down to the coffee shop. I can't tail him on the bike.”

 

“You've tailed our marks numerous times with your bike.”

 

“Yes Finch, I know that,” he answered with exaggerated patience. “But Joe's going to _see_ my bike when I get there, so if I tail him on it he might make me. Make an adventure of it, pass a used books store on the way back.”

 

Finch's voice was frosty. “It's called an antiquarian, Mr. Reese.”

 

“Just don't talk to any strangers when you're there, Harold. You know how that might end.”

 

“I get drugged _one time_ , and you just won't stop nagging about it!” Reese laughed out loud as the drove the quick drive to the cafe. “It's not like you've never made any mistakes.”

 

“At least I haven't taken E. By mistake,” he amended as Finch snorted.

 

“No, but you let yourself be bound and gagged way too often. It would be easier, and safer, if you just admitted you liked it and paid for it with a professional.” Reese waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, knowing the street camera would pick it up and relay it to Finch.

 

“Noah, over here,” Joe's voice called out. Reese looked over at him, grinning and tucking his helmet under his arm.

 

“My date's in place, so I'm cutting my losses with you, Finch.” The older man chuckled.

 

“That's what you say every time, John, and yet you never do. That joke never gets old.” Reese headed over to Joe and sank down in a seat. His brown eyes were wide as they roved over Reese's motorcycle. He was close to drooling, it seemed.

 

“Man, how can you afford that on a temp's salary? Those things cost a fortune in insurance alone.” Reese shrugged and gave a small smirk.

 

“My apartment's cheap. Plus I don't have a lot of other expenses, so I'm good.”

 

“How long will you stay at St. Mary's?”

 

_Not a second longer than I have to._ “Until the regular guy's back, I guess. Or until the principal kicks me out.”

 

“Then you're here for good; she's a sucker for pretty boys. And wait, that was completely inappropriate, considering we're talking about a high school principal.”

 

“So I'm a 'pretty boy', huh?” He placed an order for a double coffee with the waitress, who looked him over and gave him a brilliant smile. She directed it at Joe as well, for good measure. He made a 'Told you so'-gesture.

 

“Point proven. Just accept a compliment, Noah.” Reese shrugged.

 

“I'm just not used to men giving me compliments for my looks.” That made Joe blush a little.

 

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry if I did.”

 

“I'm not saying I was uncomfortable, just that I'm not used to it.” He took a sip of his coffee as it was put in front of him. It was rather good, actually. He looked Joe over, studying him in silence. The other man met his look calmly, but the blush remained. It made a small smile tug at the corners of Reese's mouth. “So, did you catch the game last night?” Joe's face broke into a grin, eyes sparkling. The topic was changed to more neutral ground, and Reese could finally get to work.

 

* * *

 

“What is it that makes Joseph such a good teacher?” Finch held his pen poised over a note pad, looking expectantly at the people in front of him. Blake's parents lived in a small apartment, the same one they'd moved to when they first arrived in New York. Both of them seemed like hard working, upstanding citizens. His mother, Lois, was thrilled to hear that her son might get a commendation for his efforts in helping troubled kids. The last thing was true, Blake had formed a small support group at the high school. He spent a lot of his free time helping the youngsters, both with their school work and more practically. One of his friends volunteered as a counselor once a week to be able to give professional advice. Finch was becoming certain Blake was the mark, not the perpetrator.

 

“Joe knows what it's like to have a rough time growing up. He was a bit wild when he was younger, hung out in the wrong crowd. We were afraid he'd end up in jail. But then this teacher started working at Joe's school. He saw the potential in a lot of the kids, just like Joe does now. He gave private tutoring, for free, to help the boys fulfill their potential. Joe calmed down, started focusing on school again. He worked really hard to set himself straight again. So did some of his friends that hung out in the same circles. Everybody loved Edward Sommersby.”

 

“That was the teacher?” He made a note as Blake's father, Richard, nodded.

 

“Yeah. Sommersby really gave it all for these kids. I think he could have gotten them to do anything.”

 

“What made you move here to New York?” Lois's face darkened and her face grew tight with tension.

 

“Matt killed himself. Joe's best friend. Took an overdose of sleeping pills, said he couldn't go on anymore. It was a complete shock, I don't think anyone saw it coming. Least of all Joe. They'd straightened up together, they were making plans of going to college together. Both of them had gotten accepted at a college here in New York. When Matt killed himself it nearly broke Joe. He spent hours in therapy; he was sure he could have done something to prevent it, if he'd seen the signs. We decided to move here to be close to Joe, to be here for him.”

 

“I can see where Joseph gets his dedication from,” Finch said with a smile as he rose. “Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me.” He shook their hands and left to head back to the library. He took his phone out, dialing the familiar number.

 

“Mr Reese, how was your date?” He couldn't help it, it was just so easy to rile the younger man. Reese huffed in annoyance.

 

“It wasn't a date, Finch. We had coffee.” Finch smirked to himself.

 

“So many love stories have begun with a cup of coffee. Did you learn anything interesting?”

 

“Not from talking to Joe, no. He's a nice enough guy, normal, loves his job. Maybe he's a little bit too dedicated to it.”

 

Finch snorted. “That sounds like someone I know, Mr. Reese.”

 

“Pot, meet kettle,” was the dry reply. Finch chuckled. “Anyway, we talked about work, the kids at school, then he had to take off. Did you know he's part of a support group? I followed him there, he's there now.”

 

“Yes, I learned as much from his parents.” Finch got into the car. “He's started it to help the kids at school.” He told Reese of everything else. Reese was quiet on the other side. “Mr. Reese, are you still there?”

 

“When I said he's part of a support group I meant he's participating in one. With other adults, no kids.”

 

“Maybe he still has guilty feelings concerning his friend's suicide?” Finch headed into the library, placing himself in front of his computers. He opened up Mr. Blake's finances, looking over his bank statement and recent withdrawals.

 

“Somehow I find that hard to believe. Or if it is, then he's in the wrong place. The people here meet up to handle their experiencing sexual abuse, Finch.” The older man's brows rose in surprise. Something had just caught his attention.

 

“Did Mr. Blake mention any remodeling or redecorating he intended to take on? Anything of such.”

 

“Nothing. Why'd you ask?”

 

“Because he rented a storage locker downtown last week. He also rented a cement mixer and a concrete drill, as well as buying some other hardware.”

 

“Give me the location, I'll go check it out later. I figured I'd swing by and drop the bike off. Maybe you'd like to accompany me?” Finch laughed.

 

“You ask only because I can drop you off so you can pick up your car. You do know the car's a lot more expensive than the motorcycle?”

 

Reese made a rude noise. “You do know the bike's a lot more likely to be stolen?” Finch headed up to make himself a cup of tea. He entered the name Edward Sommersby, asking for his current address.

 

“You're just afraid you'll lose your favorite toy. On a side note, Mr. Blake's old teacher, Edward Sommersby, has just moved to New York for his retirement. Actually he lives very close to our Mr. Blake. Maybe we should set up a reunion? That might get you a gold star with your boyfriend.” Reese groaned.

 

“What I said earlier, about you being creepy? I mean it. You're not supposed to play match-maker, Finch.” In the background the older man could hear the motorcycle engine ignite. Reese would be here in approximately ten minutes.

 

“No I'm not, but I can't help but think of the old adage 'All work and no play'. When was the last time you did something normal, Mr. Reese? When was the last time you went on a date?”

 

“This morning,” was the prompt answer. “I had breakfast with you.” Finch choked slightly.

 

“I don't know if I should be honored or horrified that you considered that a date. And I'm sorry to tell you, I will not 'put out' for you, no matter how much tea you bring me.”

 

Reese laughed, letting it become all sultry and flirty. “Never say never, Finch. You can't knock it 'til you've tried it.” Finch shook his head and rolled his eyes, a smile escaping him.

 

“Sexually harassing your boss will not get you a raise, Mr. Reese.”

 

“Lucky me that I don't need one, then,” Reese answered. “Besides, money's not as fun as getting a rise out of you.” The words were fairly dripping with sexual undertones.

 

“I'll see you shortly,” Finch said dryly as he ended the call. Sometimes the man was incorrigible. And besides being that he was also in contempt of the things called traffic laws, which was proven as he stepped into the library five minutes later.

 

“Let's go; I want this over with so I can get some sleep. Everything's pointing at me needing to teach juvenile delinquents things tomorrow as well.” He sounded deeply aggravated. Finch gave him a pat on the shoulder as they headed downstairs. It amused him to think of Reese as a teacher. It also fascinated him listening to Reese being Noah. He seemed so relaxed, comfortable with himself. Finch was only half joking about Reese getting a date. The man deserved some down time, something to unwind. Besides, maybe some recreational sex might make him stop flirting with Finch all the time. A moment later, as they pulled up at the storage facility, he decided that wasn't likely. In fact chances were so slim it was likelier Reese would stop kneecapping crooks.

 

Reese pulled out a flashlight, despite the place being well lit. he noticed Finch's look and shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being prepared.” He added his set of lock picks to the pocket and they made their way over to Blake's storage locker. Reese easily handled the lock and pushed the door up. Both men stared inside.

 

“Do you think he asked permission before doing this?” Finch opened his mouth, then closed it again. The floor was practically removed, an occasional piece of rebar sticking out like broken bones. Besides the cement mixer, sacks of cement and some debris from the drilling the place was empty.

 

“What's the first thing that springs to mind when you see this, Mr. Reese?”

 

Reese didn't hesitate. “A grave. Joe's going to kill somebody and get rid of the body here.”

 

Finch sighed. “And here I was hoping you could convince me I was rushing my conclusions.”

 


	3. Clarity?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least they manage to formulate a theory. Even Reese has to admit it's only loosely based on facts, but they have to work with what they have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight mentions of sexual abuse and molestation. If it triggers you, best stay away, even if it's just in a round-about way.

 Reese took the car to work the next day. He did not enjoy spending a full day working as a teacher. He had six classes today; six opportunities to be tortured. But in between classes he fully intended to interrogate Joe. There was no doubt he was a would-be perpetrator, but Reese got the feeling he was a genuine good guy. Something had him about to snap, and Reese would try his damnedest to find out what. If he could stop him from doing something stupid and ruin his life, then they'd done a good day's work. He stepped inside, bracing himself for the open stares of the kids. A few of them greeted him; he nodded back to them with a smile. He stepped into the teacher's lounge and made a bee line for the coffee machine. He gave a casual wave to the others as he filled his cup.

 

“Hey guys, how's it going?” He sat down with a group of other teachers, chatting amiably with them. The door opened and Joe entered, deep in conversation with someone Reese hadn't seen before. The young man's face was set in a frown, his eyes stormy. Something was up. Reese tried to hear what was said, but all he could make out was the intensity of the conversation. He decided to try a different tactic and grabbed his things as well as his coffee cup. As he headed out he put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Hey Joe, are you okay?” He let his voice stay in its normal, soft register. Joe looked up at him.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine. Look, can I head over to your office later?”

 

“Sure, no problem. See you later.” He patted Joe on his back before heading down to prepare for his first class. When it came to the students he had his game plan all set. He fully intended to make them cry from exhaustion; that way they wouldn't have time or energy to torture him. He'd make his old drill sergeant in the military proud with the obstacle course he set up. When it looked good enough he took off at a run, trying it out. He was panting by the time he finished the last obstacle and Finch's familiar voice made itself heard in his ear.

 

“Trying morning, Mr. Reese?”

 

“Good morning to you too, Finch. I was just preparing for class. Incidentally, if one of the students die from exhaustion and Noah gets sued, will the charges stick?”

 

Finch chuckled. “How about you try to not kill any kids?”

 

“Do you have any idea what you're asking of me? Six classes today; six hours of too big egos and too little self-awareness. I haven't even started and I just want to shoot them on principle.”

 

“It doesn't explain your heavy breathing, however. Am I calling at a bad time, do you have company?” Reese sighed in exasperation.

 

“I was trying out the obstacle course I set up, don't get any perverted ideas.”

 

“A man could hope you'd take my advice to heart. But speaking of perverted ideas, have you found out who Joe's intended victim is?”

 

Reese snorted. “Yeah, I walked up to him and asked 'Hey, who are you putting in that grave in your storage facility?' He told me, I saved the guy and now I'm staying here for classes because they're just tons of fun.”

 

“This is no laughing matter, John.” Finch's voice was deeply disapproving.

 

“I _know_ that! Don't you think I want to stop a good guy from making a horrible mistake? Maybe I should just beat it out of him, would that be better?” His voice rose slightly in frustration, and of course the door opened at that moment and Joe stepped in. Reese gave a groan under his breath and resisted the impulse to face-palm. Where was his usually impeccable timing when he needed it? Joe looked around in confusion.

 

“Who are you talking to?”

 

“Oh, I tend to talk to myself. Does this obstacle course look too tough?” Joe looked around and his eyes widened.

 

“Not if you intend to train Navy Seals, no. Anyway, you sounded pretty upset. Something you want to talk about?” Reese was just about to switch the subject to Joe when Finch spoke in his ear:

 

“Story time, Mr. Reese. He's going to a support group for sexually abused; use it. Here's your chance to establish a real connection.” Of course Finch was right. Reese gave a mental shrug and went for it.

 

“I'm sorry, I just had a bit of a rough night. One of my friends has boyfriend trouble. I've told her to just leave the bastard before something bad happens, but she doesn't listen. Or she didn't before last night, when the son of a bitch raped her. I've been trying to get her to press charges, but she refuses. I'm tempted to beat the shit out of him until he confesses to the police.” He let his face take on his usual blank, cold expression, but that sort of melted away when he saw the stricken look on Joe's face. “God, I'm sorry, I shouldn't heap this on you!” Joe waved a hand and tried to gather himself.

 

“It's okay, Noah. It's just so similar to the story of one of the girls here in school. She's going to the support group I've started here. She's the newest addition that needs help, and your story just hits too close to home right now. That was what I was discussing with the school's psychologist about. The school refuses this girl a sabbatical to deal with the trauma.”

 

“Man, you're really involved with these kids. I wish everyone could be like that.” Joe gave a small shrug.

 

“I kind of know what they've been through, a lot of them. How could I not try to help?”

 

Finch's voice returned: “Well done, Mr. Reese. It sounds like our Mr. Blake might have a history of abuse personally, which definitely explains the support group meeting last night. I'll dig into it and see if I find anything.” Reese hummed softly in agreement as he placed a hand on Joe's shoulder.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” A flash of pain crossed Joe's face.

 

“I'd rather not, if it's all the same. Just some old wounds. Could we change the subject, please?” Reese smiled and gave a nod.

 

“Sure thing. Do you want to hang around and watch a bunch of kids turn to Seals?” Joe gave a small laugh.

 

“Tempting as the offer is I have a class in fifteen minutes; I'd better head there. Look, do you have plans for lunch?”

 

“I figured I'd grab a sandwich at the cafeteria, why?”

 

“Just wondering if you'd like some company?” Reese gave him one of his rare, genuine smiles. It wasn't even hard, he actually liked this guy.

 

“Sure thing, see you there.” Joe's smile grew a little easier and he headed out with a small wave just as the first students dropped into the gym hall. Reese noted that a lot of the students looked after him as he left. Not that he could blame them, even he could appreciate a nice backside as it left the room. He grinned and clapped his hands sharply as the class assembled.

 

“All right guys, are you up for a challenge?” Maybe this class wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

Lunch was a lot easier. Joe had relaxed a little and they were talking about safe, neutral topics. Reese was actually enjoying himself when Joe's phone beeped. The younger man excused himself to check his mail; Reese took the opportunity to do the same on his own phone. Obviously he got applications for his night classes via e-mail. What he saw made him grateful for his ability to keep a blank face. What surprised him was that Joe's face was equally neutral. He'd expected some sort of reaction to that. But Joe just continued their earlier conversation. Reese forwarded the mail to Finch, if only just to amuse him. A text message came in a minute later.

 

_I believe I've located a possible mark. We need to meet._ That was probably the best news Reese had gotten in an eternity. He really wanted to finish this up, this whole thing was getting under his skin.

 

_See you in the park in ten._ He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I'm sorry, but something's come up. I need to take off for a while. See you later?” Joe nodded as he slipped off. It was just a short drive to the park. Finch was sitting on a park bench, reading. Reese sneaked up on him, bending down to speak in his ear.

 

“Don't even bother, Mr. Reese. I know you're there.” Finch's voice was laced with amusement; Reese heaved a mock sigh.

 

“Fine, spoil all my fun. How did you know I was here?”

 

“My spider sense was tingling. That, and I could see you driving up.” Reese gave a slight laugh as he sat down.

 

“What have you found out?”

 

“I looked into our friend's old teacher. Do you know he's flagged?”

 

“Flagged?”

 

“The man's been convicted of child molestation. He spent three years in jail. He was recently released and has just moved here. Probably he's hoping for the anonymity of the big city.”

 

“Joe's friend killed himself. It wouldn't be too big a stretch to assume Sommersby molested him and that's why he committed suicide. It would explain why Joe takes things like this so personal.”

 

Finch nodded. “That's all well and good, but it's just assumptions and circumstantial evidence. We need cold, hard facts. I'll ask detective Fusco to do some digging, see if there are any records of accusations or allegations. And you need to stay close to your friend, make sure he'll do nothing foolish.”

 

“I'll hang around the school, make sure he doesn't kill someone. Do you think he intended for Sommersby to join his night class?”

 

“I'm sure of it. Sommersby taught art as well, and is a rather avid painter. Mediocre but enthusiastic, I have to say. Mr. Blake's never bothered with putting fliers up to advertise for his class before, but he's done just that in the area where Sommersby lives. I believe he intended to lure him in.”

 

Reese scratched his neck absently. “Well, he certainly didn't display any enthusiasm that his old favorite teacher would run into him. Finch, are you really sure about this?”

 

“Absolutely not, but nothing else has pinged the radar. Besides, your friend _has_ prepared a grave at his storage facility. Even if he doesn't intend to kill his old teacher he surely intends to kill _someone_. And I have just the right way to let you keep close tabs on him.”

 

“Finch, I'm not asking him out on a date!” The older man shook his head in mock disappointment.

 

“And here I thought you were focused on our case, not a potential date. I intend to contact Mr. Blake and tell him the model working tonight's class has been indisposed. Of course I'll be sure to cancel with the model as well. It's your duty as a new friend to offer to stand in. I'm sure Mr. Blake won't be averse to the idea. That way we can study him and gauge his reactions, as well as find out if there's another threat looming in the future.”

 

“Great, so you want me to be a model as well as a gym teacher. Why can't you be the model?”

 

“Because, Mr. Reese, I've just acquired a burning interest in learning to draw. I believe I will attend class tonight.”

 

* * *

 

It was almost annoying how smoothly Finch's set-up clinched. When he thought about it it was practically always that way. Finch just had some super-human planning and tactical skills. He'd probably be the world's greatest wedding planner, Reese decided as he headed over to the high school again. Joe had been grateful when he offered to step in as a model, even if he'd given him a weird look.

 

“Are you really sure you want to do this?” Reese had shrugged.

 

“Hey, what are friends for?” Actually he should have known those words would come back to bite him in the ass.

 

“Just take off your clothes. There's a robe hanging there, you can put it on.”

 

“Wait, what?!” His mouth was hanging open. Joe tried in vain to stifle a grin.

 

“Noah? I teach classical croquis drawing. I thought you knew, that's why I asked if you were really sure. Do you want to bail?” Oh, did he ever! This was like the classical nightmare, except he really was going to be naked in front of a lot of strangers. But if he did he would have no way to assess the possible threat to Joe, nor find any evidence that Finch's theory was right. He squared his shoulders.

 

“I said I'd do it, so I will.” He quickly slipped out of his clothes and pulled the robe on. Only when he stepped into the class room did he remember Finch. His eyes grew wide; Finch's eyes were glittering with poorly concealed mirth. As he stepped up on the podium he heard Finch's voice, a mere whisper in his ear:

 

“You know, I never pegged you as an exhibitionist, John.” Reese wanted to close his eyes and die. Instead he followed Joe's instructions and did his first pose. He hoped Finch had a better view of Sommersby; it wasn't like he could move around a lot. He could, however study Joe. He seemed completely relaxed, maybe he tensed slightly whenever he had to reposition Reese. Not that Reese blamed him, he couldn't say he was all relaxed himself. It didn't help that Finch kept an almost sub-vocal running commentary in his ear, commenting on everything. That included several of his poses, which really did nothing to make him less self-conscious.”

 

“Creepy, Finch,” he finally hissed as he turned away.

 

“I think you're a bit hard on yourself.” He couldn't help himself, he threw a glance over his shoulder. The grin Finch wore could only be described as shit-eating.


	4. 3 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes investigation without interaction won't produce any answers. And 3 a.m. tends to make the demons come out...

 Reese felt a lot better once he pulled the robe on again. It had been beyond awkward, standing on a podium striking poses. Even if he'd worn clothes he'd have felt silly; being nude it was a nightmare. The only saving grace was Joe's appreciative comments as he adjusted Reese's poses. In another setting the idea might have merits, as it was now he was just embarrassed.

 

The class was winding down and he could finally study Joe's old teacher. The man was nondescript, graying hair cut short, gray eyes hidden behind steel-rimmed glasses. Dressed in a cardigan and corduroy pants he looked like the ultimate retired teacher. Nothing was even remotely threatening about him. Yet Joe tensed up when Sommersby walked up to him. If Reese hadn't been watching for a reaction he might have missed it. Their number was good at keeping emotions in check.

 

“That was a very enjoyable class, Mr. Blake. I'm glad I signed up for it.” He barely spared Reese a glance, which he didn't mind. He'd gotten enough attention for the night. He glanced up at Finch, who was staring at his sketch rather thoughtfully. He got the perverse desire to go over and watch it, see how Finch saw him. Or if he even could draw. Instead he focused on Joe, whose face stiffened incrementally as the old man put a hand on his shoulder. That definitely was a warning sign; one of the things Reese had got about their number was that he was a casual touch-guy.

 

“Thank you Mr... “ He trailed off and the old man helpfully supplied his last name. “Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm a little forgetful at times.” His smile was a shadow of the one Reese had gotten to see, but the old man didn't seem to notice anything off.

 

“I have to ask, have we met before? You seem somewhat familiar, as does your name.” Joe shrugged and shook his head.

 

“I'm sure there's more than one Joseph Blake in New York.” Reese shot Finch, who was tapping away on his phone, a glance. Finch's voice whispered in his ear piece.

 

“Mr. Blake was enlisted in his old school as Joe Blake. And he has changed a bit since he was fourteen.”

 

“He certainly doesn't act like he's just met an old mentor,” Reese murmured back as he turned away.

 

“Joking about dates aside, I really feel you should try to accompany our friend home. Maybe you'll be able to do some digging in his home.” Reese hummed in agreement. He didn't like it, but it was the best way. Either that or breaking into Joe's apartment. Hanging out seemed like an easier way. He straightened up slightly and looked at the younger man. He seemed tense and uncomfortable.

 

“Hey Joe?” He noticed that Sommersby gave a slight frown as he spoke. “Can I get dressed now?” Finch laughed softly in his ear as Joe's smile grew easier. He stepped closer to Reese and lowered his voice slightly.

 

“It's a bit of shame, but sure.” A blush stained his cheeks as he said it. Even though it pained Reese to admit it, he was kind of adorable at that moment. He headed over to the back room, looking over his shoulder.

 

“Ooh, smoldering, Mr. Reese. That's a very good look on you.” Finch's voice was a teasing purr; he resisted the urge to flip his friend off. But it did seem to have some effect on Joe as well, as he followed him. Actually it wasn't supposed to be smoldering, he just wanted to catch Joe's attention. What he hadn't counted on was to be pushed back against the wall and kissed once they his the back room. He made a muffled sound of surprise, then his body kind of took over and responded automatically. Oh, this was not good. He _really_ shouldn't be doing this. His brain did a quick calculation of how long it was since he'd had any sort of physical interaction with another person; interaction that didn't include violence. The answer was depressing, but did explain his body's eager response. “Come with me home.” The question was murmured against his lips in a slightly hesitant voice.

 

“Two birds with one stone, Mr. Reese.” Finch's voice was soft, gentle. “It'll do you both good. Allow yourself this, and help him out. Contact me when you feel it's appropriate.” The earpiece went silent. Reese's heart beat a bit faster. This was a stupid, idiotic, insane idea.

 

“Joe, this won't lead to anything. I won't stick around, I don't do relationships.” He was slightly breathless as he made himself say the words. He could at least be this honest with the younger man. Joe shook his head.

 

“I don't care, Noah. In fact that's kind of perfect for me. I just don't want to be alone tonight. No strings attached, I promise. I'll even talk to you tomorrow, instead of being huffy and upset.” Reese allowed a small grin to escape him. Was he seriously going to do this?

 

* * *

 

Yep, he was, he thought as he stretched. Joe was sleeping quietly next to him, curled up under the covers. He got out of bed silently, pulling on his boxers and jeans. There was a delicious ache in his body; the strain of muscles used in a way they were unaccustomed to. He touched his earpiece.

 

“Finch? Are you there?”

 

“I'm here, John. How are you?” There was no teasing to the voice, just friendly concern.

 

“I'm good, maybe better than good.” He allowed a smile to creep into his voice. “Are you satisfied?”

 

Finch laughed slightly. “I'm hoping you are, John. You needed the release.” Reese blushed slightly.

 

“I can get release!”

 

“Yes, but you needed the human interaction.”

 

“Finch, you know this conversation makes me feel like you're my sugar daddy? It's a bit uncomfortable, truthfully. Let's not discuss my sex life and focus on the case.”

 

“Aw, and here I was hoping for details!” Finch chuckled as Reese cleared his throat in annoyance. “Okay, let's be serious. See if you can find anything important.”

 

“Have you found anything else on Sommersby?” He started going over the desk in the living room. It was incredibly mundane, the stuff he found. Curricula, teaching plans and notes filled the first drawer. The second one contained bills, insurance papers and everything concerning his home. Not that he had expected to find anything there. No one ever kept their secrets in a desk. That alone was enough reason for him to start keeping his secrets in his desk, come to think of it.

 

“Nothing aside from him being sentenced to three years' probation for sexual misconduct with a minor. The boy was seventeen and retracted his allegations of abuse, but there was no denying he'd been having sexual relations with him.”

 

Reese frowned. “You think he threatened the kid?”

 

“It certainly wouldn't be the first time. The question is: how long has it been going on for? How many victims might have fallen prey to this man?”

 

“Is someone under his thumb right now? You need to keep tabs on this guy, Finch. Maybe we can find something that sticks this time.”

 

“We still have an important thing to discuss, Mr. Reese. Your friend Joe; what about him? If Sommersby was the reason Joe's friend committed suicide there's nothing we can do. There's no redemption for him.”

 

Reese sighed in frustration as he continued on to the book case. Another classic hiding place that probably wouldn't pan out. Still, there had to be something. Otherwise he was stumped, _they_ were stumped. “I know that, but it's not like we can let Joe kill the guy. Even if he deserves it. It would ruin Joe, even if he might get away with it.” The book case was full of books; nothing else. “God, he's so normal he sets my teeth on edge. And yet he plans to kill someone.”

 

“I've already set up monitoring devices for Sommersby's computer. Tomorrow I'll try to get close to him and blue-jack his phone. As for you, there is one more thing you can do.”

 

“Oh?” Reese was absently riffling through an old shoe box in the hall closet. It was filled with photographs; nothing that stuck out. There were a few pictures of Joe as a kid, hanging out with his friends. Reese wondered if one of them was Matt.

 

“You could try to talk to him. I'm beginning to believe our usual, circumspect methods might not work here.”

 

“Wait, what, you want me to tell him the truth?”

 

“I thought more along the lines that you divulge that we're on his trail. Try to talk him straight. After all you can be very persuasive, Mr. Reese.” Reese put the box back and ran a hand through his hair. “Either way you need to get some sleep, John. Go cuddle your friend, enjoy a tad of normalcy.”

 

Reese gave a soft laugh. “What we do isn't normal, Finch.”

 

“No, it's not,” Finch agreed softly. “Which makes it all the more important to take the precious moments we can to maintain the illusion.” Something squirmed in Reese's gut. For a second he felt guilty.

 

“Do you know I feel like I'm cheating on you?” He usually wasn't that candid, but there was something about three a.m that had that effect on him. That and the fact that Finch allowed his concern and affection for him bleed to the surface. Maybe there was a reason they rarely spoke at this time of night. Finch made an amused sound.

 

“What on earth are you talking about?”

 

“When will you steal a few moments like that? When will you feel another person sleeping next to you?”

 

“Oh, your concern is heart-warming. I mean that, John. But trust me, if I feel the need for human interaction I'll find a companion. It really isn't that hard; you've just denied yourself that pleasure for far too long.” Reese's eyebrows rose at that. Finch doing one-night stands? The thought had never surfaced in his mind before.

 

“Oh. I've never- “

 

“Go to sleep, John. I value your sentiment. But be selfish now, curl up next to a warm body and get some sleep.” He wanted to protest, but it was too tempting. “Talk to your friend tomorrow, when your mind's clear.” Reese gave a small smile, then gave a huge yawn.

 

“Good night, Harold.” He padded into the bedroom, stopping in the doorway to just look at Joe. For a second he contemplated what it would be like to see that every night. Maybe not Joe in particular; just someone to wake up next to. Someone to listen to him as he got home, someone to hold when he got lonely, someone to comfort him when things got too rough. A normal life, and someone to share it with. Then he realized what he'd have to give up to have that: everything. Who he was, Finch, the things that mattered the most to him. It wasn't an option. Finch was right, better enjoy a few stolen moments of the fantasy of what could never be. He slipped out of his clothes and slid beneath the sheets. Next to him Joe made a small sound and snuggled close to him in his sleep. Reese let his arms tighten around the younger man and just for a few hours he let himself pretend he was just like everyone else. He nuzzled the neck of the younger man, pressing a kiss to it before he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to try and wrap the case up. It might not be as easy as they'd hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more mentions of child abuse and pedophilia. it's not graphic, but those subjects are never fun. Better stay clear if it feels too rough.

 It was unfamiliar, waking up next to someone. Reese had gotten some rest, but he wasn't used to having someone sharing his sleep space. The only one who'd done so lately was Finch, if one of them had been injured. It wasn't quite the same as having a nude body pressed to him. He looked down on Joe and felt slightly discomfited. It was time to wrap this up. Finch was right, he just needed to be straight-forward. But he couldn't do it as Noah, he needed to be himself. He looked at the clock before realizing it was Saturday. Joe probably hadn't bothered to set his alarm. He slipped into his clothes and left the apartment quietly. He considered heading to the loft, then changed his mind. He might as well head over to the library, bring Finch some breakfast. After all he had some spare clothes hanging there. He stopped by a cafe and picked up coffee, tea and some donuts. He whistled softly to himself as he headed up the stairs. A weight lifted off his shoulders, he felt himself unwind slightly as he saw Finch sitting in front of his screens. _This_ was his world. A fond smile edged the corners of his mouth up as he headed over to the desk.

 

“Good morning, Finch. I thought I'd swing by with some breakfast.” He put the things down. Finch looked at him in pleased surprise as he made himself comfortable in the other chair.

 

“I thought you'd have breakfast with your friend.”

 

“I intended to, but then I got restless. You know, I don't think I'm cut out for that sort of life. Or maybe I am, but I don't care to find out anymore. I'm actually _happy_ with our arrangement. It's comfortable, safe and I make a difference. _We_ make a difference. Thank you, Harold.” Finch's face softened, even if he looked slightly sad.

 

“I'm glad you want to stick with me, John, even if I wish you could live a fuller life. You deserve much more than this. Besides, how is what we do safe?” Amusement crept into his voice. Reese looked down, slightly embarrassed as he answered.

 

“It's safe because you're there. I know you've got my back.” He took a sip of his coffee to cover his awkwardness. Finch just looked at him, then gave a small nod.

 

“So how do you intend to proceed with your friend?”

 

Reese gave a grateful smile, a mere twitch of his lips. Oh yes, Finch got him, all right. “I figured I'd try to talk him straight, but I can't do that as Noah. Mr. Wilson's done his job with our number. But that still won't help bring Sommersby to justice, it won't help Joe get closure.”

 

Finch's smile was razor sharp, all wicked edges. Reese knew that smile never boded well. “If you talk to your friend, I'll take care of Mr. Sommersby. I promise you that one way or another we'll have him behind bars; all you need to do is take care of Mr. Blake.” It was a testament to his faith that Reese relaxed back in his chair with a smile. After a quick, teasing glance he put his feet up on the desk. Finch gave a scowl of disapproval, but he couldn't stop the small smile that escaped.

 

“It really would be good if we could finish this up rather quickly. We've gotten a new number, but I've handed that over to detective Fusco for now. I do believe he might need our assistance, however, and rather soon.” Reese gave a nod and finished his coffee. There was no time like the present, really. He got up and stretched slightly, contemplated if he might have time for a run. But he had no idea how long Joe slept for; it was probably best to head back there. After he'd changed. He gave another stretch and headed over to the closet. “Feeling sore, Mr. Reese?” The teasing note was back, but Reese thought he could detect a note of sadness there as well. He shrugged.

 

“No, I'm fine. It's just... that's not for me, either. That kind of relationship, I mean. I tried it and found it wanting. Physical release like that is overrated.” Finch's smile held an edge.

 

“Then it's your partner that's found wanting, Mr. Reese.”

 

“Maybe so. It's just not worth it when there's nothing to build on. Sex without emotions just isn't worth the trouble.”

 

“Why Mr. Reese, I never figured you for such a romantic.”

 

“I'm not, I'm extremely practical. I can't keep doing what we do _and_ have a normal relationship. So it's better to skip all relationship aspects completely.”

 

Finch huffed. “I was wrong. You're not a romantic, you're a cynic.” Reese grinned over his shoulder as he pulled his shirt off and kicked off his jeans.

 

“Now you're talking, Finch.” He stood for a moment, looking over his suits. It made him smile again. He was glad Finch had provided him with uniforms fitting for his job. He looked them over, trying to decide which to wear.

 

“I'd recommend the bespoke twill, Mr. Reese. It makes you look very authoritative,and you've earned the right to indulge.” What Finch said was sad but true, clothing had become an indulgence for him. He pulled on a crisp white shirt, leaving the top two buttons open as usual. Then he pulled on the pants and shrugged into the jacket. On a whim he gave a small twirl.

 

“How do I look?” Finch smiled.

 

“Like a man to be reckoned with. Good luck in your endeavor, call me if you need me.” Reese gave a simple nod and headed out.

 

* * *

 

Joe was still asleep when he got back. Maybe it wasn't really strange, it was only a little after ten in the morning. With a shrug Reese sank down in a chair to wait for him to wake up. It was only fair to let the guy sleep in a bit. To keep himself amused he got up and snooped around a bit more while talking softly to Finch. He didn't find anything, but at least it passed the time. Finally he heard movement from the bedroom and resumed his position in the chair. Joe stumbled out, looking sleep tousled and way too young. Reese felt almost guilty for taking advantage of him; not that he'd come on to Joe. The younger man saw him and his eyes widened.

 

“Noah?” That one word held an entire world of questions. Reese gave a slight smile.

 

“Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.”

 

“Will it require formal wear? I don't own a suit like that.” Reese's smile grew broader.

 

“Not many do. I just took the liberty of changing into something more comfortable for me, whatever you want to wear will be fine.” Joe's face was a study of nervous insecurity as he headed into the bedroom again. Reese was glad he'd made sure the younger man had no guns. He might have gotten shot otherwise. At least Joe was quick about changing. He glanced at Reese as they headed out.

 

“At least I won't have to worry about whether breakfast in bed would be too much or not.” Despite the gravity of what he was about to do, Reese's lips twitched.

 

“I guess not. Let's take my car.” They drove in silence; as they got closer to the storage facility Joe showed increasing signs of distress. When Reese pulled up in front of his rented shed the younger man was practically panting.

 

“Why are we here?” Reese calmly stepped out of the car and opened the shed.

 

“I was hoping you'd answer that question. Look, you're in trouble, or you're about to get yourself in trouble. That's a grave in there and you intend to put someone into it. I have a theory and I'd like you to hear me out.” Joe stared at him, disturbingly similar to a deer in headlight, before turning to run. Reese was well prepared, a heavy hand clamped down on Joe's shoulder, nearly wrenching him off his feet. Joe gave a soft grunt as Reese pulled him against his chest, arm around his throat in a light choke hold. “You're a good guy, Joe. I'm not, though I try to be, and I hate watching good guys squandering their lives on stupid things. What you're about to do is beyond stupid. Do you really believe you'll get away with it?”

 

Joe struggled free, or rather Reese let him go. He was still ready to grab him again, however. “Yeah, I'd get away with it! Nobody would miss the son of a bitch anyway!” He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Reese shook his head.

 

“Maybe you'd manage to kill him and not get caught. But that's not getting away. Do you know what taking another person's life does to you?” He deliberately let that coldness seep into his eyes, his face. His face was that of a man who could kill without losing sleep, without remorse. Joe's eyes widened and he shied away. Reese closed off, locked that part away again. He wasn't too fond of showing that side of himself. “That's what it does. Trust me, you do not want to end up like that. So talk to me. Why do you want to kill Sommersby?” Joe froze, eyes wide with surprise and anger.

 

“Do you work for that bastard? Is that what it's about? I don't know what tipped him off, and I don't care. You can kill me, but I'll pay you to take him out as well. He's got to pay for what he's done!”

 

Reese held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I wasn't sure this really was about Sommersby, but he seemed the only viable suspect. I'll just tell my theory, then you can correct any errors. I believe he took you under his wing, you and your friend Matt. But I believe he abused Matt sexually, and that was why Matt killed himself. How am I doing so far?” He kept his voice low, matter-of-fact, studying the younger man. Joe seemed to deflate, the rage leaving him and tears rising in his eyes. He angrily tried to dash them away, but they still ran over, leaving rivulets down his cheeks. He lifted his head in defiance, looking Reese in the eyes.

 

“I got a suicide note from Matt. He told me he was sorry. We were supposed to get through it together, but he just couldn't bear the shame. He couldn't look himself in the eyes, so he thought it was better to just fall asleep. He did; he took an overdose of his mom's sleeping pills. I never told anyone why he did it.” Reese met his eyes squarely, acknowledging the depth of pain there. It was about what they'd figured out.

 

“You were close? More than friends?” Another tear spilled down Joe's cheek as he nodded.

 

“Matt was my first boyfriend. We never told anyone, but Sommersby must have picked it up. He used it to justify the abuse, saying that a man was better than a boy.” His face crumbled at the remembered pain; he drew a shuddering breath. “We could have made it through, Matt and I. But Matt left me to deal with it alone!” He crumpled to the ground, deep sobs wrenching him. Reese stood helplessly for a moment, before kneeling down next to Joe. Something clicked in his brain.

 

“Matt didn't tell you what Sommersby said, right? You heard it yourself, didn't you?” Joe's only response was a nod of his head. Reese felt a cold rage burn in his chest. “ He said it to you, didn't he? He molested you as well, didn't he?” The nod was so tiny Reese would have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

 

“I- I should have known Matt would do something stupid. But I was so wrapped up in my own guilt and misery I didn't see it.” A sound close to a wail left him. “So he left me! All alone, with no one to talk to and no way to save him or redeem him. Oh god!” Reese didn't even think, he just wrapped his arms around Joe and held him. Finch's voice sounded in his ear:

 

“Poor boy; poor man, carrying that around for so long.” There was an infinite sadness there and it made Reese tighten his arms around Joe. The younger man fisted his coat, burrowing against him. He was shaking all over, gasping and crying. Reese got the feeling this was the first time all this pain had been allowed an outlet. He murmured softly to Joe, nonsensical stuff as he held him and rocked him gently. He actually had no idea for how long they sat there before Joe's grief had run its course. He disentangled himself from Reese unsteadily and moved back to put some space between them. His face was swollen and blotchy, his brown eyes lack-luster and lifeless.

 

“I still don't get where you fit in all of this, Noah.” His voice was choked, hoarse. “Why do you care about all this?”

 

“My name's actually not Noah. My real name's not important. What is important is that me and my friend have ways of knowing if people are in trouble. If you kill Sommersby you'll be in trouble. You've done so much with your life, you've helped so many people. Don't throw it away on this scumbag, don't let him ruin your life completely.”

 

Joe's face grew grim. “You don't know what it feels like. I ran, my entire family moved because I was shattered. We moved to a big city to give me a fresh start. And it worked, I built a new life. An existence which let me help others that had similar experiences to mine. I'd managed to put it behind me, to build a normal life again. And then that bastard comes walking down my street. Carefree as anything. He'd moved in three blocks from me. He ruined my fucking life, and he didn't even recognize me when he met me in the street. I looked him up and saw he was flagged as a predator. Don't you see how many more lives he might have destroyed?!” Fresh tears loomed in his eyes.

 

“Mr. Reese, I've sent the contents of Mr. Sommersby's computer to Carter. He has a disturbingly large collection of child pornography on his drives. And it seems like he's been distributing it as well. It's certainly enough to lock him up for now; hopefully it'll lead to something that makes his jail stay last for the rest of his life.” Finch couldn't have come with better news at a better time. Impeccable timing really was Finch's forte.

 

“He won't destroy another one. He'll go to jail, and he'll be locked away for a long time.”

 

“I don't believe you.” Joe's voice shook with emotion.

 

“I don't blame you.” Reese rose and held his hand out. “Want to go see him get arrested? Will that make you believe me?” Joe's face was etched in disbelief as he took the proffered hand. Reese took out his phone.

 

“Detective? What do you say of the information my friend gave you, is it valid?” Carter's voice was cold and tight with anger.

 

“It's valid, all right. What led you to this guy? The bastard's part of a child pornography ring of national scale. Also there are pictures of him with young boys, mementos he's saved. He won't see the outside for a long time, probably never. We've got a team heading over now to arrest him, thanks to your 'anonymous tip.' I can't wait to see him locked up.”

 

“Thank you detective, you've been helpful as always.” He disconnected and gestured to the car. “If we hurry up we may even have time to buy popcorn before the show.”

 

* * *

 

Finch looked up as Reese entered the library. The taller man was back in jeans and a shirt, and he was covered head to foot in gray dust. Still he looked content enough.

 

“Do I even dare ask what you've been up to, Mr. Reese?” Reese shrugged as he looked down on himself. Obviously deciding against sitting down in his current condition he opted for leaning against a book case.

 

“I let Noah out to play a last time with Joe. No, not like that,” he added when he saw Finch's raised eyebrows. “I helped him fix the floor of the storage locker. I figured he'd been through enough without having to pay for the damages as well.”

 

“Couldn't you just have given him money to fix it?” Reese leveled him a look that spoke volumes of what he thought of Finch's intelligence at the moment.

 

“Of course I could have, but that wouldn't have given me a chance to find out how he is.”

 

Finch conceded with a nod. “And how is he?”

 

“Not good, but he's- coping. I think he'll be all right. Knowing Sommersby's gotten his come-uppance has at least cured him of his homicidal thoughts. I just hope he won't start harboring suicidal ones, instead, but I think he's stronger than that. I hope so, at least.”

 

“You could keep an eye on him.” Reese shook his head.

 

“No I couldn't. That would make me too invested, too involved. I won't go there.” Finch rose to his feet and passed Reese with a pat on his shoulder.

 

“I was just saying. I see your point, Mr. Reese. I believe you've done what you can.”

 

“I hope so.” He watched Finch head over to the kitchenette do make himself some tea. When he turned his head his eyes widened. There was a new painting on the wall, a framed sketch. It depicted Reese naked, sitting down, one knee drawn up to let his elbow rest on it. His chin was resting on a closed fist. It was a classic croquis pose, but that wasn't what drew Reese's eyes. It was the expression on his face. He was drawn looking thoughtful, gentle. There was a softness to the expression that made him look almost vulnerable. A part of him was vaguely annoyed that of course Finch would be great at drawing as well. The other part was blown away. Finch stepped close to him, moving remarkably silent for someone with a limp. He placed a hand casually on Reese's shoulder.

 

“I thought it would serve as a reminder of who you are. You may think you're closed off, cold and ruthless. But there are still people left who see you for who you really are, John.” He let his hand stay on Reese's shoulder, and if Reese might have leaned into the touch ever so slightly neither of them mentioned it.  


End file.
